


Angelic Walkabout

by Zeckarin



Series: And they were roomates... (but there were two beds) [34]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Agnes Nutter knew what she was doing, Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), But NOT with babies, Childbirth, Crowley Loves the Bentley (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley's Army of Rats, Fluff and Humor, For part of a chapter, Gen, He is a big dramatic noodle sometimes, Humor, POV Bentley (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Sentient Bentley (Good Omens), Summoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23775919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeckarin/pseuds/Zeckarin
Summary: Aziraphale needs to travel away for a few months.But Fate (and friends) seems to be determined to bring him back.Or: Is it possible for an angel to take a break?The answer is (apparently) no.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Adam Young (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley & Anathema Device & Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & The Bentley (Good Omens), The Bentley & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: And they were roomates... (but there were two beds) [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1523585
Comments: 88
Kudos: 120





	1. Departure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [megzseattle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/megzseattle/gifts).



> I will try to post every day. Chapter 2 is finished, and chapter 3 on its way.
> 
> More characters and tags to come 😉  
> Rated teen and up because there will be some angst later.  
> But this is a FUN story! Humour first, here! I want to make you laugh^^  
> Of COURSE happy ending, as ALWAYS!  
> I really hope you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed myself writing it^^

Crowley was yelling at Josephine when the angel walked in the flat with a concerned expression, newspaper in hand. The terrified peace lilly was put roughly on the counter with a glare that clearly meant “This is not over, young lady”.

“What’s wrong?” asked the demon as his friend, still reading, reached out for the tea kettle. Crowley grimaced. Watching the angel make tea while reading always put him on edge. One day, Aziraphale would burn himself, he was certain of it. Never happened yet, but that didn’t mean it was safe to pour scalding water without looking at one’s hands.

“Mm?” answered the angel absent-mindedly.

“I said: what’s wrong, Aziraphale?”

His name finally caught the angel’s attention, and he looked up, blinking behind his round glasses.

“Oh, sorry, my dear. I was a little distracted. George Singh is dead, I just read it.”

Crowley tried his best to appear compassionate. Probably another of the angel’s _humans friends_ , he thought with a small spark of jealousy and a bigger spark of smugness. Well that was one less. He immediately felt bad. Aziraphale was distressed, after all. He shouldn’t be happy about it.

“That’s a shame, angel. How old was he?”

“Ninety-eight. Oh, I have to go immediately… I cannot miss the opportunity,” mumbled Aziraphale, looking back at the newspaper with a frown.

Crowley blinked. This was not sadness at the loss of a friend. This was the face of an angel who loved his comfortable life and didn’t want to step out of his home for longer than a good dinner, a stroll in the park, or the occasional week-end visiting the Antichrist. The demon suddenly smiled wickedly. Only one thing could push Aziraphale to leave his beloved shop without a moment’s notice.

“A book collector, right? Who’s inheriting?”

“I have no idea, but I will find out very soon,” promised the angel, snapping his fingers to summon his coat and hat, his head held high with that stubborn tilt of the chin Crowley would recognise anywhere. He already pitied whoever would try to put themselves between his friend and the books he craved.

Aziraphale donned his coat, patting his pocket distractedly. “Passport… and ID, oh, money! I will need money, of course…”

Crowley knew there was no need to roll his eyes and remind the angel he could teleport. His friend liked to do things the human way, and the demon couldn’t blame him. They would both be bored to death (and out of miracles) if they used their powers for every travel. Where would be the joy of driving, then? He tilted his head in interest and followed the angel to the bedroom.

“Passport? Not in UK, then?”

The angel started to open drawers, folding clothes into an old suitcase. “Oh, no, my dear, not the UK. He was living in New Zealand. I will be gone quite a while, I think… I shall take the opportunity to pursue other volumes… there is someone in Australia who is supposed to have a first edition of “book of wealth” and I always wanted to investigate…”

Crowley hummed in understanding. “How long do you think you’ll need?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” muttered Aziraphale, folding a pink woollen cardigan in his suitcase before closing it. “Three… four months, maybe.”

He suddenly gasped and looked at the demon. “Oh, the bookshop! I cannot close without notice, I have an appointment with a client on Friday! Crowley, would you..?”

The demon raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling with amusement behind the sunglasses. “Do you think I am your bloody caretaker, Aziraphale?”

The angel flushed with embarrassment. “No! Of course not! Oh, I am sorry, dear boy, I shouldn’t have-”

“Kidding, angel. Stop fretting. I’ll take care of the shop.”

“Oh but you don’t have to. I can cancel the meeting, there is absolutely no trouble-”

“Stop babbling, I told you I’ll do it, so just zip it and agree with it already,” grumbled the demon, taking the suitcase from the angel’s grasp to reopen it on the bed with a long-suffering sigh. “You didn’t put any socks in it, stupid. And take bloody gloves and a scarf, you’re not going to Tahiti.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Are you sure? Thank you so much, Crowley! It’s only until Friday, you can close the shop after that if you want to.”

The demon hissed in disgust. “Shuddup. It’s not that big a deal, I know how to handle the bookshop. It will keep me occupied between mischiefs. You can go longer if you want. I’ll manage.”

Socks in hand, his friend shook his head. “No. I don’t want to be away for too long. Four months, maximum. I will be back before mid August.”

Crowley looked away, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with all the nonchalance he could muster. He tried not to appear hurt, but it was a difficult endeavour. “I won’t sell a book you want to keep,” he mumbled.

“Well I shall hope so!” exclaimed Aziraphale, closing his suitcase again and finally looking up. His smile faltered. “Crowley! Of course I know you won’t, my dear! I was merely joking!”

Crowley looked at his feet, refusing to meet the angel’s eyes. “Then why do you want to come back so soon? You like a little book-hunting once every few decades. It’s the perfect opportunity. You usually travel for a year or more. The only difference I can see is that I live here!”

Aziraphale patted the lid of the suitcase, frowning while he tried to make sense of the demon’s speech. He finally sighed in exasperation.

“Oh, you stupid red belly noodle! Do you really think I trust you so little that I would cut my travel short? Of course not! I will feel much more peaceful knowing you are here than if I’d let the shop alone.”

Crowley looked up sheepishly, already feeling foolish. “Okay. So why do you want to be back so soon? And don’t tell me you’ll miss me, you liar, I won’t believe you!” he added with a tentative laugh.

“Adam,” answered the angel. “I don’t want to miss Adam’s birthday.”

The demon’s eyes widened. “Oh. Forgot about that. It’s in August. He would understand, you know. Plus, he has a phone...”

“No. Human children grow too fast, and I do not want to miss this. I have half a mind of staying altogether. What if he forgets what I look like? What if something happens to him? And Anathema and Newt will have a child in only a few weeks!”

Crowley laughed. “Adam’s no goldfish, angel. Of course he’ll remember you, you’re too annoying to forget. And I’ll call you if there is trouble. You’ll phone Anathema and Newt, and the baby will still be there when you come back. You can always teleport if there’s an emergency. You should go. Have fun, let your hair down. Buy as many dusty books as you can, and talk about obscure poets’ lives with bespectacled old ladies smelling like mothballs.”

“I know you’re trying to be scornful, but I would love to do exactly that,” declared Aziraphale with a challenging smile, lifting the suitcase and exiting the bedroom. “And I _will_ be missing you. Every time I drink wine with one of these adorable old ladies you mentioned.”

Crowley growled in outrage. “Don’t you _dare_ drink wine without me! Angel! I’m serious! Oi! Are you listening to me?”

Aziraphale chuckled as he walked down the stairs. He would certainly miss _this_.

* * *

Crowley pulled over in a disabled parking place and got out of the Bentley to open the boot and retrieve Aziraphale’s suitcase. The angel was murmuring disgustingly sweet goodbyes to the car. Crowley shut the boot loudly, making his friend startle. “Stop spoiling her. She never listens to me after you’ve been nice to her!”

“Nonsense, she is the sweetest girl. What time is it?” wondered Aziraphale, consulting his pocket watch.

“You’re half an hour early, angel. Plenty of time,” assured the demon, entering the airport and ignoring the policeman that strolled towards them angrily.

“Passengers are supposed to arrive two hours early. The gates will be closed!” wailed Aziraphale, snapping his finger. The automatic door shut in front of the policeman and refused to open again.

Crowley rolled his eyes, and his head for good measure. “Come oooon angel, we both know the plane won’t take off without you onboard. Okay. here’s your gate.”

The angel took the suitcase with a grateful smile, and sighed. “Oh, I hate to go in such a hurry. I didn’t even take a book to read...”

“You know all your books by heart. You can reread from memory,” provided the demon, unimpressed.

“This is not the same, Crowley! Oh, don’t forget to feed Algernon!”

The demon snarled. “Your stupid bloodthirsty mouse can very well take care of himself.”

Aziraphale tutted. “You know he didn’t mean to hurt you, my dear.”

“Angel, he bit my boot so hard he got my _toe_! I couldn’t walk for two days!!”

“You are overdramatic. I offered to heal you, remember?”

“Yeah, right, to pretend that nothing happened and that your little pet isn’t a freaking monster. Thanks, but no thanks,” pouted Crowley, crossing his arms.

Aziraphale huffed and strolled to the gate. The demon watched him disappear without a look back and chuckled, fishing his cellphone in his jacket’s inner pocket. Two minutes later, the familiar sound of a message rang.

_Mind how you go, dear boy._

The demon grinned. That angel was lame at holding a grudge. He texted back.

_Try to not end up in jail._

Of course, his phone buzzed again angrily only a few seconds later. After ten minutes of trading insults, Aziraphale informed him he had to cut off his phone.

Crowley joined the Bentley outside, threw the parking ticket in the air, and pulled out with a devilish smile.

“Well, baby, the angel’s gone. Fancy a little ride in the countryside? We can speed up as much as we want.”

The car rumbled sadly. The demon pouted. “Aw, don’t be like that, it’s only for a few months. He won’t even be gone a year! No need to be _sad_!”

Bentley didn’t seem to cheer up. Crowley pondered. His car wasn’t even a century old after all. Maybe four months _were_ a long time from her point of view.

“Okay. How about this? I’ll take you out for some mischief every day. We could pull out some big ones, like the M25, remember? That was fun, right?”

The engine roared a little more enthusiastically. Crowley grinned. Cars were like kids. You needed to keep them occupied to make them think of something else.

“Good. I’ll think about something. But first we have to buy some cheese for that bastard of a mouse, or the angel will kill me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley isn't sad at all. Four months are nothing to immortal beings, and even if they both appreciate (always, and very much) each other's company, they are not depending on each other's presence. So no, Crowley doesn't feel bad, he's happy to know his friend will have fun hunting some old books, and he will have no trouble entertaining himself in his absence.  
> He could have offered to accompany him. Aziraphale would (of course) have said yes. He just isn't interested in chasing old books^^.
> 
> In case you're wondering, Crowley's text message angered Aziraphale because of the content, not because of the split infinitive. Some of the greatest writers used them. Even Shakespeare did! Aziraphale LIKES split infinitive because it reminds him of some of his dearest human friends.
> 
> Crowley likes to use split infinitive because it annoys most teachers to no end.


	2. Adam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has been away for a week, and is enjoying his stay in New-Zealand.  
> An unexpected phone call forces him to change his plans for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter two, right on schedule!

Aziraphale carefully hung his coat on his desk chair, and sat on the comfortable armchair, near the window, with a contented sigh. This had been a _good_ day. In less than a week he had been able to track down George Singh’s lawyer, convince him to disclose the heir’s name, and make a few inquiries about said heir.

Acquiring the books he was looking for wouldn’t be much trouble. The man didn’t care for his grand-uncle’s collection. _Philistine_ , he thought with a moue, a little angry at old George. Who would give away such a collection to someone who wouldn't be able to appreciate it? But Singh always had been an odd fellow. He was well known and respected by many in the book collector's underworld, but Aziraphale wasn’t part of it. The old man was too ruthless for his taste.

Anyway, he couldn’t contact the heir before the reading of the will. It would imply he already knew the content of the document, and that simply wouldn’t do. Angels don’t read wills. It would be awfully bad of one to do so.

Looking out the window of his hotel suite, Aziraphale considered calling room service for tea and biscuits, then decided not to. The poor girl had seemed exhausted the day before, they were clearly understaffed. He was trying to do something about it, but his meeting with the hotel’s manager that morning hadn’t been productive. The woman wasn’t responsible for hiring. He needed to meet the owner of the place, and the man was out of the county until the end of the week. No tea for five more days. The angel frowned, his mood a little less cheerful.

His phone rang, and he conjured it in his hand, expecting Crowley’s name to appear on the screen.

It was an unknown number. He tightened his lips in a firm line. If these unruly men in dark suits had found his private number and were calling to “sell him fire insurance” again, he had half a mind to curse them. In the literal sense, of course. He was too well bred to _insult_ a stranger on the phone.

“Hello,” he answered, quite coldly.

“Mr. Fell?” answered a woman’s voice. The angel immediately softened. This didn’t seem like a menacing voice.

“Yes, it is I.”

“I am Ms. Rutherford, Tadfield’s elementary school headmaster.”

 _Oh, bother,_ thought Aziraphale, bracing himself for bad news. Had Adam or one of the Them been in need of a rescue, he would have felt it. It _had_ to be mischief.

“You are on Adam Young’s contact list, and I am afraid I have to ask you to come and pick him up if that is possible. Adam has been irreverent to his teacher and is excluded for the rest of the day. Of course I would want to talk about it with you before we let him go. I couldn’t reach Mr. or Mrs. Young, unfortunately...”

The angel raised his eyes to the ceiling with an inward sigh. _Of bloody course_. Both of Adam’s parents’ phones were out of order precisely today. How convenient. If the boy thought he would get out of trouble this way, he was in for an unpleasant surprise. Appearing in Tadfield and then teleporting back here would require a significant amount of Grace. But there wasn’t any other way…

Of course he could have called Crowley, and asked him to take care of this, but what kind of Godfather would act like that, and shy away from his duty when it became difficult? Certainly not him. Plus, he was secretly pleased to be placed before his demonic counterpart on Adam’s contact list. Not that he would ever confess it… but it was good to be chosen over his friend for anything related to children, for once. He was certainly getting better at it if Arthur and Deirdre had thought of him as secondary emergency contact.

“I will be in your office in a few minutes, my dear,” he assured a slightly startled Ms. Rutherford before hanging up.

With a sigh, the angel donned his coat and snapped his fingers.

* * *

Adam was sitting on his chair, facing the headmaster’s desk, legs swinging back and forth. A polite knock on the door had the woman look up from the form she was filling.

“Come in,” she called. Adam leaned on the chair to grin as his uncle Aziraphale entered the room. The angel sent him a look that promised retribution, and walked to the desk to shake Ms. Rutherford’s hand.

“Mr. Fell? Please, sit down,” offered the woman. Aziraphale hesitated, looking at the plastic chair next to his Godson in distaste, then sat with the air of a martyr. Adam concealed a smile, straightening up and stopping his legs.

The headmaster waited a moment, expecting apologies from the well mannered man. It was usually the parent’s first impulse, to apologise, or, more rarely, grumble, but nothing came from Mr. Fell. She finally cleared her throat, and the man tilted his head politely, waiting for her to speak.

Adam looked at his right hand’s nails, biting his lips. This was already hilarious. Even if he was in for a lecture later, and he wasn’t sure about _that_ , he was enjoying himself immensely.

“Mr. Fell… Adam has been… irreverent to one of our teachers,” started the woman, raising her chin and folding her hands on the desk.

Aziraphale waited a little, then nodded slightly. “Yes, I gathered as much on the phone, Ms. Rutherford. May I inquire as to the nature of the irreverence in question?”

She blinked rapidly. “What does it change? Insubordination isn’t tolerated in this establishment, Mr. Fell.”

The angel decided not to point out that irreverence and insubordination had two very different meanings. “I certainly understand that, but I would want to know what happened exactly, if you would be so kind as to explain it to me,” he answered sweetly.

She closed her eyes for a second, feeling a migraine building up. Oh, perfect, one of _these_ ones. He would find excuses for his Godson’s behaviour, criticize the educational system, and walk out the door as haughtily as if he was the bloody king.

“He asked unwelcome questions during history class. _Lots_ of questions,” she added with a pointed look to the child. Adam gazed back innocently.

Mr. Fell looked at her for a few seconds, nodded sharply, then got up.

“I see. Well, I will take care of the, ah, scolding part of the affair. Remind him that asking questions, if always a good thing, mustn’t be to the detriment of the class’ progression.”

He shook her hand once again, and she opened her mouth, at a loss for words. Her migraine dissolved into ether, but she didn’t notice it, too focused on the man’s blinding smile.

“Thank you ever so much for this enlightening discussion, my dear girl,” declared Mr. Fell before motioning for Adam to exit the office. Ms. Rutherford sat back, a little confused, then looked around.

Oh, she was wool-gathering again. Really, she ought to take a break. With a sigh, she reached out for the form she had started to fill when… she blinked. When what? She didn’t remember. Oh, next vacation would be _most_ welcome.

The angel and the Antichrist walked out of the school, side by side.

“Really, Adam, I know rebellion can appear appealing, but there are other ways to carry your point. What did that teacher do exactly? And don’t you lie to me, will you?”

Adam took his uncle’s hand. He knew Aziraphale had trouble being stern when he used that move. The angel didn’t like contact, but holding hands didn’t trouble him. At least not from his Godson.

“He was a jerk,” answered the boy with a pout.

“Adam! This is not a word I want to hear coming from you!”

“Well he _was_! All Pepper did was ask a question about the Sex Discrimination Act,” explained Adam heatedly.

Aziraphale smiled. “Was the subject of the class the Women’s Liberation Movement?”

Adam pouted. “It was the Roman conquest of Britain,” he mumbled. “But that wasn’t a reason to answer her like this.”

The angel’s smile dimmed. “How did he answer exactly?”

“He told her questions should be related to the Roman conquest during this class,” reckon the child, still frowning.

“Well, that seems quite fair to me-” started the angel.

“You weren’t there!” interrupted the Antichrist angrily. “You didn’t hear what he was _thinking_. He didn’t want to answer her anyway. He _hates_ Pepper!”

Aziraphale stopped walking. “That is a very serious word, Adam, and it should not be used lightly. Are you certain?”

Adam nodded. “Of course I’m certain. He hates her. And it’s not because she asks questions. He hated her as soon as he _saw_ her. Nobody suspects it because he hides it well, but I can see in his mind. Not on purpose,” he added hurriedly, “but sometimes it’s difficult not to sense strong emotions.”

The angel resumed his walking, his smile back on place, but Adam could see a steely glint in his eyes.

“Is there anyone else in your school whose sight generates that kind of feeling in your professor?” he demanded.

“She’s not in my class, but yes. He thinks the same about Sarojini. Her parents moved in last month from London.”

Aziraphale mumbled something that looked a lot like a swearing. Adam decided wisely not to point it out.

“So you asked questions related to the class, I gather?” the angel asked absent-mindedly.

“LOTS of them,” confirmed the boy. “I got ejected when I asked Boudica’s daughter’s names.”

“I do not believe he could have known that, dearest. Crowley and I are probably the only ones to remember that story,” murmured Aziraphale sadly.

“I _kn_ _e_ _w_ he didn’t know. I only asked things he didn’t know. And I got ejected,” added the boy proudly.

“Oh, well,” sighed the angel. “I guess I have to punish you. How about a cocoa and some pastries?”

Adam grinned. “Seems like a pretty fair punishment to me. I promise I won’t do it again.”

The angel ruffled his hair fondly. “Do not make promises you do not intend to keep, you little menace. And do not trouble yourself with that teacher of yours. He won’t be a problem anymore,” he added in a dark tone.

Adam grimaced, but didn’t press further. He had expected the angel to get in that sort of mood. Now they _both_ needed pastries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will feature Crowley, I promise^^  
> I will post it tomorrow. Thank you for all your kudos and comments, it warms my demonic heart!


	3. Bentley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bentley is worried. The angel is gone...  
> What if it was her fault?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long chapter today! Bentley has a lot to say^^

Bentley started to worry at the end of the first week.

Before that, she had been, of course, a little sad at the angel’s departure. But Father had told her, several times at that, that Aziraphale would come back very soon. They both had a great time wreaking havoc in London and its vicinity, and she didn’t really think of the angel for a few days, other than checking on his presence to see if he was feeling fine. He was.

She never quite understood how she could feel the angel’s every emotion so clearly when it was much more difficult to keep track on Father when he was away. Even her old friend Bookshop was impressed (and, to be true, a little jealous) by the connection between his angel and the black car. They had a _thing_.

Father both liked and disliked it. He was happy to see them getting along, but awfully jealous every time the angel talked to her a little too sweetly, or when she refused to agree with him when he stormed out of the bookshop after a fight and criticized his friend while driving.

“You’re ganging up on me, that’s what! You’re betraying your own father, that’s what you’re doing, ungrateful girl!”

Of course she never would betray Father. It hurt her a little every time he said that, but he always apologised. And Father being a demon, asking forgiveness was not something he did easily.

At the end of the first week, Father was driving towards King’s Cross station to have a little fun (changing the platform numbers on the info screens was always a lark) when his phone rang a familiar music.

‘Made in Heaven’ was Aziraphale’s tune, so Father answered immediately.

“How’s life in Aotearoa, angel?” he asked with a smile.

“Oh, perfect, really. I intend to visit the Village next week.”

Crowley pouted. He didn’t like to be reminded of the _V_ _illage_. It was one of these old adventures he never recalled with nostalgia. Centuries ago, Aziraphale had been sent to this place to protect the small herd of humans living there from an occult beast, freshly escaped from the Pit. Fighting it alone was suicide, but Heaven didn’t seem to care if their Principality got discorporated and destroyed. When Crowley had sensed the angel’s distress, it was almost too late. Between the two of them they had succeeded in banishing the creature, but Aziraphale had almost discorporated from his injuries. Bloody fourteenth century.

The humans had taken good care of him, though. Maori were pretty good with healing magic. Some of them still were, according to Anathema. Since that time, Aziraphale had taken the habit to pop on in the little village every few decades for a few blessings, to “repay the kindness” as he put it. Because _of course_ humans taking care of someone who almost died to protect them was, in the angel’s eyes, a bloody kindness and not _the least they could do_.

“I don’t think they’ll remember you anymore, Aziraphale. It’s been, what? Sixty years since your last visit. Probably forgot about you,” pointed the demon with a casual shrug, taking a turn at a demonic speed.

“I do not think so, my dear. A young lady came to my hotel yesterday to invite me to their land. They always know when I am back.”

“They’ll _dance_ again,” groaned Crowley. “You know how they _always_ dance. It will take _hours_ , angel! And they will expect you to bless the land.”

“Unlike you, I quite like their ceremonies, Crowley. The dance is beautiful. And I do bless the land, every time I come, so this is a reasonable expectation. You are just jealous, and it is very naughty of you.”

“Me? J… Jealous? Certainly not! Why would I be bloody jealous?” spluttered the demon.

“Because you want to come too. You know, you still have the time. You are part of their legend too, they would be thrilled.”

“Angel. Aziraphale. You’re my best friend, and there’s very few things I wouldn’t do for you. But spending hours listening to old music and watching old dances without a single drop of alcohol to drink is one of them.”

“As you wish, dear boy. I did call you for another reason. I am currently in Tadfield and I-”

Father tensed on his seat and hit the brake. Bentley stopped immediately, preparing herself to bolt if needed.

“What the… what are you doing in _Tadfield_?” yelled Father, addressing an absent-minded crude gesture to the driver following them, who had almost crashed into them and was now honking madly. “Is Adam ok? What’s happening? Do you need me to-”

“Everything is fine, Crowley. Adam got a little trouble at school, that is all. I took care of it, but there are still some loose ends to, ah, tie, as it is. I wonder if you could take care of that for me? I think this is more your field than mine.”

Bentley didn’t really listen to the end of the conversation. Father stayed put in the middle of the road, forcing other vehicles to drive back both ways, humming and chuckling darkly as he took notes. Bentley was only thinking of one thing: Aziraphale was back. He was in Tadfield. And they didn’t drive him there.

Had the angel taken a _taxi_? Why didn’t he ask her to take him there? Didn’t he _trust_ her anymore?

Father closed his notepad and snapped it into the ether. “Okay, I’ll take care of that. Do you want me to come and get you? We could eat out before I take you to the airport.”

Bentley felt joy wash over her. They were going to see the angel! One week wasn’t a long time, she knew it, but she was used to seeing him almost every day since the Awful Flaming day. And he needed to _go_ somewhere. Somewhere _she_ could drive him!

“Don’t you have that demonic plan of yours for today? At the train station?” wondered Aziraphale. Bentley felt her heart freeze.

Father grimaced, but answered in a light tone. “Naah, I can do it another day, angel.” _Of course_ _you_ _could_ , thought Bentley. _Train station c_ _an_ _wait!_ _We are_ _going to Tadfield! The angel need_ _s_ _a ride and_ _w_ _e_ -

“Do not be ridiculous, Crowley. You were looking forward to it, and I know it would be difficult to postpone. I will manage, do not worry.”

_What?_

Father smiled in relief. “All right. Call me if you need anything.”

_What?_

“Of course, my dear. Mind how you go.”

That evening, Bentley drove back to the bookshop with a heavy heart. Father, basking in the demonic afterglow of a Job Well Done, didn’t notice. King’s Cross was a huge success. They crossed path with two police cars and a fireman’s truck, all of them aiming for the train station with their sirens on.

Even that didn’t cheer Bentley up. She pulled over in an unauthorized parking spot and watched Father enter the shop with a spring in his step. Bookshop reached out for her, asking what was wrong, but she didn’t answer. It couldn’t understand her. The angel still loved his bookshop.

He had only ceased to love her.

There was no other explanation. The only other times Aziraphale had refused a ride were the Holy Water Thermos day and the End Of the World. Both times, he had been sad, or angry, because of Father. But not today. Today, they had been perfectly friendly over the phone, which meant refusing the ride HAD to be because of _her_.

She wondered what she had done. Was it because she drove very fast? Perhaps the angel had had enough. Perhaps the drive to the airport the other day was the last straw. She _had_ been pretty fast, that day, more than usual, because Aziraphale was scared he’d miss his plane.

When the angel was angry at Father, really angry, her demon apologized. He had told her once that Aziraphale always forgave, as long as you told him you were sorry.

She had to find him.

Her connection with the angel indicated South and East. If she drove very fast, she may be able to find him, apologise, and come back before Father realised she was missing.

Her mind settled on the task, Bentley set off on the journey to New Zealand. She didn’t know if it was in England or even more south, like France, but the sea wouldn’t stop her. She wasn’t a stupid car. She knew there was a tunnel.

* * *

The phone rang as Aziraphale bought little cakes at the bakery across the street from his hotel. It was Crowley.

With a smile, he paid the clerk and exited the shop before answering happily.

“Crowley! How was your-”

The demon’s voice cut him off sharply in mid-sentence. “Someone took her!”

Aziraphale tensed, his smile disappearing. His friend hadn’t sounded that frantic since Armageddon.

“What happened, Crowley? Who has been taken?”

“My car! Someone took my bloody _car_ , Aziraphale! Can you sense her? I can’t find her, and I didn’t hear a thing! It has to be a demon or a fucking angel, she’d never let a human steal her! I’ll _kill_ them! I swear to Satan, whoever it is, I’ll rip their fucking skin from their fucking bones and I-”

The demon was yelling so loud passers by turned to look at the angel. Aziraphale hated to hear him so distressed. “Crowley? Crowley, dear, you are panicking.”

“Of bloody course I’m panicking! They took my _baby_! How can you stay so freaking _calm_? Don’t you have a _heart_?”

That wasn’t a pleasant thing to hear, but the angel ignored the feeling of hurt. Crowley didn’t know what he was saying. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, focusing on the familiar light of the Bentley. As always, it came to him easily.

“My dear, I can sense her. She is safe and sound,” he said reassuringly.

The demon made a sound that was definitely not a sob and that Aziraphale would pretend not to have heard for the rest of his immortal life.

“You’re sure? Really sure? She’s fine? Where is she?”

“She is fine, and in one piece. I am not certain of her location, but I can Appear there. Do not move, dear boy, I am going to search for her and bring her back to you immediately.”

He hang up rapidly, scrunched his nose to gather enough power for a long distance teleportation, and focused before snapping his fingers. With a rush of angelic Grace, he was gone. None of the humans in the street noticed his disappearance. The box of cakes dropped to the pavement, forgotten.

* * *

Bentley wasn’t lost. She knew _perfectly_ where she was, but wasn’t sure how she got there and how to go home. Not that she intended to go home. She had the angel to find first.

She also knew she couldn’t drive on water. Not without Father or Aziraphale on board. The sun was pointing on the horizon and she couldn’t go further.

The angel was right ahead. But ahead was the Sea. She had driven along the Italian coast for hours and hadn’t found a tunnel so far.

There had to be one. She just had to keep driving.

New police cars appeared in her rear mirror, and she roared loudly. Couldn’t they take a hint and stop trying to chase her? They had no chance!

This time there were five. She accelerated with a derisive honk.

A rush of Grace suddenly startled her, and she stopped sideways in the middle of the road, forgetting about the police cars entirely.

For a second, everything went still. Bentley couldn’t believe it. It was the angel! Aziraphale was here, with her! What was he doing here? He didn’t want to see her anymore, that’s why she was trying to find him, so why would he…

Bentley didn’t have time to think any further.

“What in the name of the Lord do you think you’re doing, young lady?” thundered the angel. Had she been able to breathe, Bentley would have stopped right away.

Aziraphale was Very Very Cross. In fact, she never saw him that vexed before.

“Do you have any idea how worried Crowley is? Disappearing in the middle of the night like that, all alone? What if something had happened to you? Why on Earth did you...”

He trailed off, finally noticing the flashing lights circling them. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and schooled his features. Bentley wanted to squirm.

“Oh. _I see_ ,” said the angel coldly. “So you did not just play hooky. You got into trouble with the _law_ , too. _Without_ Crowley. That is very bad. You have been a _very_ bad girl.”

Policeman were yelling loudly around them, and Aziraphale snapped his fingers with a huff. Bentley knew they were back in England. Not home, but the bookshop was near.

The angel got out, closed the door carefully, and faced Bentley with crossed arms and a stern face.

“Now, tell me what happened for you to run away like this. Did something frighten you? Has Crowley done something to annoy you? Did you _want_ him to be worried? Because he is. You scared him _very_ much!”

Oh. She didn’t want to alarm Father! Demonic sentient cars shouldn’t be able to feel guilt, but neither should demons, and it never had stopped Crowley. His car was no different.

Aziraphale seemed to sense Bentley’s regrets and shame, and his face softened. “Now, now, dear girl, don’t fret. Everything will be fine. Crowley won’t be angry, I promise you. And I apologise for yelling. Can you explain to me what happened exactly?”

And she could hear the concern in his voice, see the affection in his eyes. Oh. She had been stupid, hadn’t she?

They didn’t speak in the strict sense of the term, but in a way that was theirs only, and had been since the first time the angel had touched her, during the Blitz. It didn’t take long for Aziraphale to understand. He always understood.

“Oh, my poor girl, I am so sorry you felt that way because of me! Of course I am not angry with you, you know you are my favourite car in the world! I only had to go away to retrieve books. I will have to leave again after bringing you back to Crowley, but I will be back very soon, don’t you worry. It’s only a matter of weeks.”

Bentley sent a sheepish understanding. She had worried for nothing, and now she had to go back to Father. She was a little wary of his reception. She _had_ out-raced a lot of police cars without him, after all.

“Better not tell him that,” advised Aziraphale, following her thoughts while dialing his friend’s number on his phone. “It would only upset him.”

Crowley picked up immediately.

“Angel! Did you find her?”

“She is with me, and very much safe. Do not worry, my dear. It appears she was searching for me. I am ever so sorry…”

“What do you mean, _searching for you_?” cut in the demon, a little more calmly.

“Well, I imagine she didn’t understand I intended to come back. She was worried about me, I guess.”

Crowley groaned loudly. “You two are disgusting. You’re _stealing_ my car!”

“I certainly am _not_!” answered the angel, incensed.

“You are! She ran away from me to get to you! You’ve _stolen_ her!”

Aziraphale blinked. There wasn’t only humour in his demon’s voice. There was a little hurt, too. That wouldn’t do.

“Oh, my dear. She didn’t _run away,_ she wanted to bring me back to the bookshop. I don’t think she realised how long the ride would have been.”

Crowley grumbled something unintelligible. His friend smiled.

“She didn’t realise you would worry. I imagine she intended to be back before you noticed her absence. She is very sorry, you know. I think she’s a little afraid to come home now that she knows how _frightened_ you were.”

“I wasn’t _frightened_!! I’m never frightened! Annoyed, that’s what I was! Cause I didn’t have a ride. I was not _worried_!!”

“Oh, dear… should I tell her that?” asked the angel suavely.

“Ngk! You…” the demon spluttered for a moment before uttering something that sounded a lot like “bastard”. Aziraphale chuckled.

“Anyway, we are not far away. Can you reach me?”

Crowley didn’t answer, appearing near the angel a few seconds later. He immediately circled his car, looking frantically for scratches or dents. Aziraphale pouted.

“I didn’t drive her, if that is what you think.”

“Thank Someone for that!” answered his friend, caressing Bentley’s hood with whispered endearments. The angel crossed his arms, trying to appear offended, but it was quite difficult when Crowley was so clearly relieved.

“Don’t do this ever again, Baby! I’ll discorporate, I swear! I thought someone had abducted you!” cried the demon, still petting the car. Bentley sent him her regrets, and they ended up in the occult equivalent of a breathtaking hug.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. Yes, Crowley hadn’t been worried _at all_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow our boys will spend more time together^^


	4. Anathema

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley pays a visit to his human friends and finds them in a situation of urgency.  
> Time to call the angel to the rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long one!  
> I hope you will enjoy it! It's an important chapter, and it will have an impact on the future stories^^

Crowley woke up feeling restless. It happened at times, when something was bothering him and he couldn’t shake it off. With a yawn, he sat on the edge of his couch and snapped his fingers. A large cup of coffee appeared in his hand and he gulped it down with a wince.

Miracled coffee wasn’t as good as his usual, but he definitely wasn’t feeling awake enough to _make_ some. And since the only way to clear his mind in order to be able to use the coffee machine was to _ingest caf_ _f_ _eine_ , this was kind of a vicious circle…

Let’s just say having a mug of delicious home-made coffee (or cappuccino) handed to him every morning when he opened his eyes wasn’t the worst change his moving in the bookshop had brought to his life.

He snapped the cup back into the kitchen, looked at his watch, and buried his face in his hands with a groan. 9 AM. It was barely the middle of the night! way too fucking early to get up.

But he knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. Something felt off, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. It was like the occult equivalent of going to the theatre and suddenly wondering if you’d forgotten to turn the oven off. Crowley loved to put these kind of thoughts into humans sending him judgmental glares when they crossed his path in the street.

He stretched his senses, reaching out into the bookshop, the street, then London. Nope. It wasn’t there. And he knew it wasn’t Aziraphale. Had the angel been in trouble, he would have known it instantly and much clearer than that.

He snatched his jacket from the coat rack and staggered to the side with a curse to avoid stepping onto the tiny white mouse sitting right in front of him and staring ominously.

“Get out of the way, you little sucker!” he snapped, standing his ground. Algernon’s eyes glittered, his ears flattening menacingly.

Crowley smirked. “Oooh be my guest,” he invited with his best tempting voice. “Come on, bite me again. See how it goes for you. I’m more than ready to play the martyr in that little game. The angel may be abroad, but I still can send him a picture, you know.”

Algernon hesitated. Aziraphale had tutted at him last time he had bitten the demon. Attacking Crowley again in less than a month may be a bad move. The angel wouldn’t be happy. He may even frown.

The mouse started to groom ostentatiously, as if it had been his intention in the first place.

Crowley grinned. “Thought so,” he declared smugly before heading to the door.

So, the angel was fine, and the feeling of unease was too vague to pinpoint. Crowley tapped the Bentley’s steering wheel for a few minutes, then nodded firmly.

“Baby, we’re going to Tadfield.”

If something was about to happen, better be near the kids. Of course Adam was strong enough to handle almost anything, but better safe than sorry.

* * *

Aziraphale sighed, and rubbed at his eyes before trying once again to make sense of the text he was reading. He was usually very good with contracts. You had to learn a lot about judicial vocabulary and turns of phrase when you had to perform demonic work in your best friend’s stead.

But the words were dancing in front of his eyes. It was the middle of the night, he had signed many documents already, and was feeling the beginning of a headache at the back of his aura.

He knew the reason, of course. Too many uses of his Grace. Appearing to the other end of the world took a toll on anyone, even on a good day, and two back-and-forths in such a little amount of time was exhausting.

He shrugged and carefully put his pen down. Better give up and sleep a few hours, even if he hated it. He would probably be in for some nightmares, but would feel better in the morning. He had to finish filling these forms out and submit them quickly if he wanted to be the first to have access to Old George’s collection and pick the books that deserved to come back with him. He could not let anyone snatch them out from under his nose.

* * *

_School_ _masters_ , thought Crowley with a snarl, sauntering angrily back to his car. Bloody wankers, not even agreeing to let kids out for a day under the pretext that children needed education!

He had suggested that nobody had to _know_ the Them had skipped class, and that he would bring them back at four so everyone could pretend they were there the whole time, but the headmaster hadn’t seemed to appreciate the idea.

He would have to wait. But four PM seemed so bloody far away…

 _Book girl_! Maybe he could pay a visit to Newt and Anathema! The witch always had excellent booze in the fridge, even if she couldn’t drink any at the moment.

In fact, drinking it would be doing her a favour. Getting temptation out of her sight and all that. It could even be considered a good deed. He would probably have to invent some demonic intervention to restore the balance of the Universe after that.

His bad mood forgotten, he drove towards Jasmine Cottage, unaware of the turmoil he would find there.

The feeling of unease turned into intense panic as soon as he touched the doorbell. There were yelling inside. Newt’s voice. Newt _never_ yelled. Crowley entered swiftly, eyes darting everywhere, assessing the situation.

He stopped in the doorway and frowned. There were only two people there. Lover’s quarrel?

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” Newt asked excessively loudly.

“Because I wanted to be _sure_! It always takes hours the first time, they all said it!” yelled Anathema.

“Well obviously ‘they’ were wrong! And my phone _died_ , and… and YOUR phone died too, and if I touch the computer it will be the same, what am I supposed to _do_ , An?”

Okay, thought Crowley. Now he saw clearly where the panic was coming from. Newt was having a crisis of some sort. He cleared his throat. Two startled pair of eyes met his, and he recoiled at the intense relief that overtook the room.

“Oh, thank God!” exclaimed Newt, making the demon cringe, while Anathema tried to get up from her chair with a huge smile and eyes way too shiny to Crowley’s taste. He suddenly realised she had been crying.

Crowley was a demon. Upsetting humans was something he adored. But upsetting pregnant ladies he cared about was not something he took lightly.

“What the Heaven, Newt? What’s happening here? What’s wrong?”

“It’s all right,” answered the witch, finally on her feet. “It’s just… the baby is arriving, and-”

“WHAT?” yelled the demon. “What do you mean, she’s _arriving_? She’s not supposed to arrive before next week!”

Both humans looked at him in shock. “It’s… pretty common, Crowley,” said Newt slowly, his anguish forgotten now that help was there. “One week is nothing, that’s not the problem.”

Maybe, thought Anathema, the word ‘problem’ wasn’t the best to use at the moment. Crowley’s eyes widened even more.

“What _problem_? What’s _wrong_?” he looked around wildly before gasping in shock as realisation stroke. “WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE? YOU SHOULD GO TO THE HOSPITAL!”

Anathema grimaced, and Newton made a face.

“Well...” he started. “That’s kind of the problem. The hospital is almost one hour away, and Anathema wanted to be sure the pains were the baby arriving and not false contractions like last time… I got a doctor on the phone, and she asked questions, and told me Anathema was too close to the end to be moved. She sent an ambulance, but she said the baby had a good chance to be there before it arrived, and she was supposed to guide me through it, but my phone died, and I haven’t the slightest idea as to what to do!”

“It will be _fine_ ,” declared Anathema reassuringly before sitting back heavily, her face scrunching up. Both men (well, men shaped persons) looked at her in horror. She looked up after a minute, and patted her husband’s hand.

“I’m fine, it’s perfectly natural. And Crowley is here now, so all is well.”

“Ngk! Wh… how… what the fu… all is _well_? You’re having a baby in your fucking _living room_ , book girl!”

“But you’re six thousand years old. I’m sure you saw it happen lots of times, right?” asked Newt with such hopeful eyes Crowley considered answering yes for a second.

“I… no, never! I’m a demon, demons don’t do births! We don’t _help_ people! I would have been in so much trouble if I tried to... I… never helped...” he finished, looking at his feet in shame.

Anathema squinted her eyes. “Wait a… wait a minute. Lots of women died in childbirth in the past. I am sure you had to cross at least some of them in your life. You have to!”

The demon shrugged. “Well, yeah. Course. But I never… did anything.”

“I don’t believe you,” declared the witch, crossing her arms with some difficulty. “I don’t believe you let them die without a thought. Babies are innocents. You never let an innocent suffer if you can help it.”

“Oh, tell the bloody world, will you!” grumbled Crowley, blushing. “Course I didn’t leave them to _die_. I’m not a monster. I… well usually I tried to find someone competent and bring them back. I didn’t stay to watch. I mean… why would I want to see _that_? If there was no one competent around I popped up to ask the angel to… OH, UNHOLY SHIT! The _angel_!”

“Aziraphale said he helped women give birth!” remembered Newt. “We have to call him!”

Crowley was already dialling his friend’s number.

* * *

His little nap had helped, thought Aziraphale happily as he stood up and made the bed with a snap of his fingers. He dressed up the human way, realising as the seconds ticked that something felt wrong.

He frowned. There was a faraway tug at his essence. He reached out, and blinked as he realised it was coming from Crowley. The demon was experiencing stress, it seemed.

The angel walked to his desk to grab his phone, which rang as he reached it.

“Crowley? Is that you?”

“Angel! You need to come! Anathema is having her baby!” yelled the demon.

Aziraphale lightened up. “Oh, how _lovely_! I am so happy for them! Are you in Tadfield, my dear?”

The demon spluttered. “Yes, I am in bloody _Tadfield_ , that’s not the point! You have to come, there’s no doctor and she can’t go to the hospital and Newt doesn’t know how to deliver babies!”

“Oh. Oh, dear. Crowley, I am afraid I can’t… I have not enough Grace left. But I can guide you! It is quite easy, you’ll see, and I am certain everything will go just right.”

“What? _Me_? I’m not doing this! Are you _insane_ , Aziraphale! Babies are ridiculously _small_. I’ll break it! You have to come!!”

The angel closed his eyes, thinking fast. Crowley was having a panic attack. He did like children a lot, but always had been wary around babies. Newt should be able to follow his advice, but he was the father, and fathers were prone to lose their calm or even faint in such a situation, especially when the woman they loved suffered in front of them.

And even if the chances were very small, something could always go wrong. Aziraphale had helped babies come into the world, sometimes in the most dreadful conditions. He had been there when the first woman had given birth, for God’s sake! He probably knew more about it than most doctors. The demon was right, he _had_ to go there. He couldn’t teleport, and bringing Anathema to him was out of the question. Not when there were two people in only one human body.

There was still one option. He didn’t like it, but it was the only way. He took a deep breath to steel himself. Oh, his demon would not be happy. He would not be happy _at all._

“You have to summon me, Crowley.”

There was a long silence.

“ _Whot_?” stammered his friend.

“I cannot Appear, not from so far. You have to summon me. I am sure Anathema has everything needed at hand. Hurry up, my dear.”

* * *

Crowley finished tracing the circle, and carefully added Aziraphale’s name on the border, drawing the summoning sigils as fast as he could while a voice in his head yelled that it was NOT a good idea AT ALL.

“Are you done, my dear?” asked the angel’s voice from the phone at his feet.

“Almost... Yeah, that’s... Okay, that’s ready.”

“Very well. I imagine you remember the incantation?”

Crowley’s expression darkened. Like he could forget what had happened _that_ day. Yes, he remembered the words. He also remembered the angel’s agonised scream right after that. “Vividly,” he answered through gritted teeth.

“Perfect. Go on then, old chap,” chimed the angel, way too merrily. Crowley cringed. He could hear the fear in his friend’s voice.

“You sure?” he murmured, before grimacing. _Why_? Why did he have to ask that? There was no other way!

“Do not worry, my dear. I am sure it will be different this time. I will not try to resist, for a start. And you will not attempt to submit me to your will. This was the worst part of it, I assure you.”

“What does _that_ mean?” asked Anathema from her chair, breathing heavily. “Is it dangerous? Don’t do this if it’s dangerous, Crowley!”

“It’s not dangerous! There’s no problem at all!” declared the demon before standing up, phone in hand, and starting to chant the incantation before he changed his mind.

It wasn’t a long one. Summoning angels wasn’t as hard as summoning demons. In a burst of light, Aziraphale stumbled and fell to the ground. Crowley dropped to his knees and broke the circle.

“Angel? You okay?” he asked urgently.

“Ouch,” answered his friend, sitting up. “I think I injured my wrist. Nothing too bad.”

The demon carefully touched the proffered arm. “It’s broken,” he declared, healing the wound. “You’re not used to falling, that’s why.”

“Oh, how hilarious,” answered Aziraphale with a glare as Crowley helped him on his feet. “All right, where is our dear Anathema? Oh, no no no, this will absolutely _not_ do. You cannot stay on that chair, my dear! Can you walk? Perfect, let us aim towards the bedroom, I will miracle everything needed there. Newt, my dear, do you have any alcohol? Be sure to pour a large glass for Crowley, he looks dreadfully pale.”

“I want Newt to be here!” explained the witch between two laborious breaths.

“Yes, I have to be with her!” added the young man urgently.

Aziraphale smiled serenely. “You will be, my dear. I will just ready the room and help Anathema settle as comfortably as possible. Won’t take a minute. I will call you in just a moment. Is that all right?”

Husband and wife exchanged a look. Anathema smiled wanly, feeling calmer already under the Principality’s gentle gaze.

“I’ll see you in a minute, Newt,” she assured before letting the angel guide her carefully, one hand on her back and the other at her elbow.

With a heavy sigh, Crowley sprawled on one of the armchairs. “I could use a glass of whiskey,” he declared with a grin.

He really hoped the ambulance wouldn’t arrive before the baby. He knew his friend well enough to pity any human other than Newt trying to enter the room now that the witch and her child were under his care.

A mama bear protecting her cub could learn a thing or two from the angel when he took someone under his wing.

* * *

“Absolutely _not_!” declared Aziraphale, arms crossed, standing in front of the bedroom door. Crowley tried and failed to suppress a grin. That poor doctor didn’t deserve this, but it was hilarious to watch. For him at least.

“She needs to be brought to the hospital. We have to examine her and the baby, and check if they are all right, sir,” explained the woman, way more patiently than Crowley expected. They had been at it for ten minutes already, and the discussion didn’t seem to be about to end soon.

Inside the room, Anathema and Newt were laying on the bed, enjoying the bliss of admiring their firstborn sleep in her father’s arms. None of them could hear the heated discussion outside. Aziraphale wouldn’t permit the slightest disturbance to enter their happy bubble.

“I _know_ they are all right. This is not the first time I have delivered a baby, madam, and I assure you they are _fine_ and do not require to be moved. It would be putting stress on that poor baby for no reason! You checked on them already, you know they are perfectly healthy!”

The doctor sighed. “They are, and you did a wonderful job. But this is standard procedure, sir. It’s only for a few days.”

“Wait,” interrupted Crowley as Aziraphale’s expression morphed from ‘stubborn’ to ‘stormy’. “What do you mean ‘standard procedure’. There are women who have their babies at home.”

“Yes, but a home birth has to be decided in advance, with a certified midwife,” explained the woman, looking at Aziraphale with a grimace, and apparently expecting a new outburst.

“Oh,” said the angel with a joyful smile, “then everything is fine! Here, my dear lady, all the papers are in order, I expect.”

Crowley felt the rush of energy of a miracle, and bit his lip as his friend produced a stack of papers out of his pocket and offered them to the confused doctor.

“You… are a certified midwife? And this birth was planned at home? I thought...”

Aziraphale patted her arm, and she blinked as another miracle made her forget about Anathema’s booking at the maternity ward. She also suddenly felt perfectly refreshed despite having to take an unexpected night shift the day before, and would soon realise her nicotine patch was not required anymore.

“Oh… yes, everything seems fine… but I talked to Ms. Device’s husband on the phone and he...”

“Oh, yes, it was absolutely _dreadful_! My car broke on the way, you see, and I had no signal! So _of_ _course_ dear Newt started to get very worried after a while and called you. Fortunately, Mr. Crowley saw me and offered me a ride. All’s well that ends well, isn’t it? Would you like a cup of tea before taking the road again? Some coffee?”

“Oh… I shouldn’t, really. We have to head back. I am glad to see everything is under control.”

“I am _dreadfully_ sorry for the inconvenience,” assured the angel. “You came all the way for nothing.”

“It’s all right, you didn’t choose for your car to break down. Mother and child are perfectly fine, that’s all that matters,” assured one of the paramedics, finishing his cup of coffee in haste while his colleague shamelessly took another biscuit from the plate Crowley had proffered while angel and doctor were arguing.

The ambulance team packed up and got ready to head back, all three of them convinced Ms. Device never had planned to give birth at their hospital. They felt warm and happy, as if a demonic blessing had been put upon them on their way out, and they had a Tupperware full of home-made biscuits for the ride.

Crowley closed the door and turned to the angel who sat down on a chair with a happy sigh.

In the next room, the baby started to wail. Demon and angel exchanged a glance, and smiled widely at each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will begin in Jasmine Cottage and we will learn the NAME!  
> If you want to start thinking about it: it's related to Agnes' book^^
> 
> Aziraphale has been summoned once in the past. It didn't go well AT ALL. I wrote the story in GO celebration ficlets. Here it is!
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/23955166/chapters/57717481


	5. There are othere fyres than mine...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Anathema are discovering the joys of parenthood.  
> Crowley asks questions, truths are told.  
> A name is given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a quiet and fluffy chapter. I hope you'll enjoy it!

“So,” asked Crowley, warily watching Aziraphale holding the baby. “do you have a name yet?”

“Oh, yes,” answered Newt. “We found it a while ago.” He took Anathema’s hand with a besotted smile and kissed her hair. Crowley restrained himself from telling them to _get a room_ , guessing (correctly) that the joke wouldn’t be appreciated at its fair value in these conditions. They just had a baby, Anathema was exhausted, and they already _were_ in their room anyway.

“The name comes from Agnes’ book”, explained Anathema. “I have the feeling she knew already when she wrote two of the prophecies… and I wanted to listen to her one last time. So the baby’s name is Fyre. Fyre Agnes Pulsifer.”

“Not Device?” asked Aziraphale, who found the first name perfectly acceptable.

“No, the Device family has dedicated its entire life in preventing Armageddon and following Agnes’ advices. I want my daughter to make her own choices.”

“Why Fyre?” wondered Crowley. “Not that’s it’s a bad name, just curious,” he lied. It was a bad name, in his opinion. He didn’t like fire. He didn’t like it at all.

“Well… there was this prophecy about, hum… well, about her conception,” explained Newt, blushing furiously. “Anathema said she thought there was a double entendre with the word. Agnes would have known there was going to be a baby after all… and also… there’s yours.”

“Mine?” answered Crowley with a frown.

Anathema waved a hand, the gesture including angel and demon. “Your prophecy, about the trial. Agnes loved to have fun, and you have no idea how many of her predictions were both useful information and pun. You and Aziraphale are Fyre’s godfathers. I guess you will play with her pretty soon.”

Aziraphale gasped. “Soon you will play with Fyre! Oh, this is brilliant! I do admire Agnes. Such a shame we never met, I would have had so many questions...”

Crowley rolled his eyes and changed subject. Never let the angel start talking about bloody writers. He remembered Newt’s embarrassment a while earlier.

He grinned. “Soooo… about the kid’s conception… where’s that prophecy? Wanna see it. Book’s in the living room?”

Anathema and Newt exchanged an embarrassed glance. Agnes’ book didn’t exist anymore, not since the day after Armageddon, when Anathema had made the decision of taking her life into her own hands. They had both agreed to break the news gently, knowing their angelic friend would not take the burning lightly. They had also decided to wait and see how Aziraphale reacted to the destruction of something he’d already read before telling him about the second prophecy book they had _also_ burned. Without reading it.

Newt got up and carefully retrieved Fyre from the angel’s arms. Crowley looked at him in confusion.

“I never told you so but… the book… I mean, Agnes’ book… we, ah…” Anathema lowered her head. “We burned it,” she said hurriedly biting her lip and not daring to look up at the angel.

Crowley clasped a hand to his mouth to stifle a gasp, and raised the other as if to touch Aziraphale’s shoulder, looking at him with such concern one could have thought he was expecting him to drop dead on the spot.

“Oh,” murmured Aziraphale, still cooing at the baby. “I think that was the healthiest thing for you to do, dear girl. You needed the gesture, to get control of your life. It must have been dreadfully difficult, but I am not really surprised. I always knew you were one of the bravest humans I crossed path with.”

Three jaws dropped and three pairs of eyes widened, looking at the angel like he’d grown a second head.

“We… we burned it. Like, totally,” said the witch slowly, clearly thinking he didn’t understand her the first time. “There’s no more Nice and Accurate Prophecies. It’s gone. I destroyed it.”

Aziraphale hummed non-committally. “Yes, I am familiar with the notion of burning, my dear. Do you think she is hungry? She does look a little hungry to me… when did you feed her last?”

“Aziraphale,” murmured Crowley in a gentle voice, “are you all right? I know it must have been a shock, you told me you wanted to borrow it to read it again…”

The angel finally looked up at his friends, and smiled. “Oh, do not look so worried, all of you. I already knew about the book. Really, I am fine.”

“What do you mean, you knew? How? Since when? Who told you?” spluttered Newt.

“Since yesterday. I received a package at my hotel...”

Anathema tensed, finally understanding. “She sent it to you!”

Aziraphale beamed. “She did! The only other copy, in perfect condition! And there was a note with it. Asking me not to be mad at you, mostly, so I was expecting that kind of news. I guess Agnes didn’t want me to be too distressed over your action. Which,” he added hurriedly, “was perfectly understandable.”

Crowley pouted and crossed his arms. “You received a message and a book from a deceased prophetess and you didn’t tell me?”

The angel reached out to pat his hand. “Oh, but my dear, I was about to tell you! I went out to buy cake to celebrate, and your car went missing, so I forgot about it for a while… then you were so relieved to have her back I decided to wait before bringing it up.”

The demon relaxed. “Yeah, that’s right. Well at least I understand why you didn’t go all smity on them! I really thought I would have to grab the baby and run for it to avoid her being turned into a pillar of salt!” He looked at the two happy parents with a grin. “Couldn’t have saved the three of you. But I would have missed you.”

This was humour, decided Newt. Of course the demon was teasing them. Right?

He looked at his wife.

 _We will NEVER tell them about the second book_ , they decided silently.

Aziraphale sighed dreamily as the happy father sat on the edge of the bed with his precious burden, and motioned to Crowley. Both headed back to the living room and Crowley headed to the kitchen.

The angel sat, thinking of the happy little family. He hadn’t known Anathema before Armageddon, but he knew a lot about dedicating your whole life to your family’s expectations. He had touched her to heal her the day they had met, and had sensed so much stress, so much pressure… her whole past had never truly belonged to her, controlled by her ancestor. Today she was finally free, she had a future, no predetermined goal, and nobody would make decisions for her ever again. She had made her choice, and it was the good one.

 _I_ _w_ _ill_ _never tell_ _her about the second_ _book_ _in the package_ , he decided silently.

* * *

Crowley grabbed one of the ridiculously small cups Newt and Anathema had chosen as a wedding present and poured in the mix of milk and melted chocolate. Not even the slightest marshmallow in the kitchen. Those kids didn’t know how to live.

He fixed himself a coffee and joined his friend.

“Here, angel.”

Aziraphale brightened up like a little sun. “Cocoa! Oh, thank you, dear!”

Crowley watched him take a sip, and squinted his eyes. “You’re hiding something.”

His friend blushed slightly. The demon’s mouth twitched in amusement. That blessed angel was an open book, at least to him.

“Oh, it’s… it’s nothing of importance, really...” drawled Aziraphale, looking away.

“You’re entitled to your secrets, you know,” said the demon, not unkindly. He liked to tease his friend, but didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

The angel would have wriggled his hands hadn’t they been occupied. “Oh! Oh, no, dear boy, it isn’t that… I intend to tell you… only not at this moment.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. He knew Aziraphale well enough, and didn’t need an explanation to understand it was about their friends. Was it about the baby? Was there something wrong with her? It couldn’t be too bad, he reminded himself. Aziraphale didn’t seem concerned. “I see… nothing I should worry about?”

“Nothing of the sort, I assure you.”

The demon relaxed. “Kay. So what’s your next move? Back to New Zealand? Want me to drop you at the airport later?”

He watched as his friend’s shoulders slumped a little. “Oh, I do think there is no rush now. I had documents to fill today, and I missed my chance,” answered the angel a little dejectedly.

“What? No! We can still do something, right? You’ve only been here for a few hours!”

“Well, yes, and I am very glad I was. Do not worry, Crowley, it is only books after all. It isn’t that important.”

“Come on, angel! You can’t give up like that! I’m sure there’s still time!”

Aziraphale smiled fondly. Dear Crowley, getting all worked up on his behalf. “There is, but I cannot teleport back, and the plane would arrive way too late. I am afraid these books will go to other buyers. But do not worry, I have other sellers to meet, I organised several visits for the next few weeks already. I will not come back empty handed.”

Crowley pouted. This wasn’t right. The angel had organised this whole trip precisely to see that collection. Yes, he always took the opportunity of a trip to visit other interesting sellers, but George Singh’s legacy was Aziraphale’s prime interest. He knew at least two of those blasted books were as important to his friend as would be a seedling of Anogramma ascensionis to him*. No way he would let stupid humans get their greedy hands on what should be going to the angel.

*Not that he had one. Of course he didn’t, how could it even be possible? No, that fern in the bookshop was a very common fern, thank you very much. _  
_

“Well, I don’t agree with _that_! I’ll pop there and fill out your papers. I have plenty of energy. And I’ll act in your behalf while you’re on the plane. How does that sound?”

Aziraphale looked at him in wonder. “Oh, Crowley! You would? This is so… thoughtful of you,” he added, refraining from using the four letter word.

“Thoughtful’s my second name, angel. I’ll say bye to the kids and be on my way. How long do you plan to stay here?”

“Oh, they do not need an old angel hanging around, they will be perfectly fine by themselves. I think we should go together. Can you drop me at the airport rapidly before getting to my hotel?”

The demon grinned. “Oh, I can manage ‘ _rapidly_ ’. But I don’t want to hear any complaint.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be pretty funny. Crowley doesn't have the same methods as Aziraphale when it comes to aquire books.  
> I didn't say they weren't effective...^^
> 
> Thank you for your support, kudos and comments! You are the bests!!


	6. Rat Army

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has to retrieve the books for his friend.  
> Things... don't exactly go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I'm so happy to be back to this story. I was feeling bad for abandoning it for so long...

Crowley appeared in the angel's hotel room, looked around, pursed his lips in distaste, and sat at the desk to look at the papers Aziraphale had started to fill out. The demon made a face.

“Ugh, his handwritting's so _neat.”_

Three minutes later, he got up with a frustrated groan, snapped his fingers and watched the documents go up in flames with a satisfied smile.

That was too boring. Legal way? _Please_ , he was a demon, he didn't need freaking _three handwritten copies_ of this shit.

Aziraphale was too keen on doing things the _right_ way. Crowley was a _demon_. He would get these bloody book in a heartbeat. Just watch him.

Six hours later, said demon left George Singh's heir's office in a rush, swearing under his breath. He hailed a taxi, cursing himself for leaving the Bentley in London. He'd been certain the trip would only require a few hours of his time. No need to miracle his beautiful car to the other end of the world, right? It wasn't like he would _need_ a ride.

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!_

The books weren't there. They were at an attorney’s office, because they were too bloody precious, and even his best temptation couldn't change the fact that he _needed_ those stupid (burnt to crisps) documents to get to them.

Documents he’d have had to fill and return to the address he just exited... he looked at his overpriced watch... one hour and twenty-four minutes ago. All the interested buyers were already making their choice by now. Aziraphale's bloody books were more than certainly in the hands of their new owners.

There was no way he could track the stupid bastards down and offer to buy them back. He knew a lot about the black market for old books. It was kind of mandatory when your best friend was Aziraphale. Sometimes, macarons weren’t enough to cheer an angel up and you needed to find a signed first edition of Dostoyevsky in a hurry.

So he knew these humans were certainly as stubborn and ready to die for their tomes as his friend was. It wasn’t enough to let it go, though. He’d promised the angel he would get them, and get them he would. No way he would face Aziraphale at the airport in eighteen hours to explain that he’d failed because he hadn't had the patience to finish the angel’s hard work.

Aziraphale would _understand_ , thought the demon, cold sweat running down his spine. He wouldn’t be mad, or disappointed, and wouldn’t resent Crowley for one second. That was the worst part. He would smile bravely, and declare something absolutely stupid, like “ _Well, thank you so much for trying, dear. I am so sorry to have made you waste your time and energy like this.”_

And he would _believe_ it.

_No way._

_Okay. Breathe. Everything's fine. You need…_

He needed his rats. And he needed them now. It would take a lot of occult powers to get home then transport back here, but the angel had used all of his remaining energy to retrieve his runaway Bentley, and the least Crowley could do was to return the favor. Gritting his teeth, the demon snapped his fingers and appeared in his Mayfair loft. Hundreds of tiny eyes turned to him in bewilderment. Crowley was usually the one to ask them to come to him. He hadn’t come back to the loft in months, and the only humans entering it now were the pizza delivery fellows.

Crowley huffed. “I know, I didn’t knock, but I’m in a hurry. I need a dozen of volunteers for a highly dangerous mission.”

Charlotte Corday, always the daredevil jumped in the front line, followed by the faithful Alienor. _Of course_.

Another rat squeaked a question. Crowley nodded. “Yes, I’ll explain. Well, there’s these books the angel wants…”

The whole army squealed in unison. Crowley rolled his eyes. “Come on, guys, you can’t _all_ volunteer!”

* * *

Eighteen hours later, a very nonchalant demon leaned on a pillar in the airport lobby, and nodded in recognition as Aziraphale made his way towards him.

“Crowley! Is everything all right?”

The demon snapped his fingers, and Aziraphale’s trunk appeared first on the carousel. “Perfect. Absolutely tickety boo, even. Got your books, and three more that seemed interesting. Why on earth do you have to travel with a _trunk_ , angel? Your stuff is still at the hotel!”

“It would be highly improper to take a 24h long flight without a decent luggage, Crowley! What would the people _think_?”

Crowley grinned. “Probably something hilarious.”

“Something scandalous, more so…”

“That’s what I just said, angel.”

They passed the exit in companionable silence, and Crowley cut the waiting line to open the door of the taxi that had just parked.

Aziraphale shot him a Look. “Really, dear?”

Behind them, the waiting humans started to complain. Crowley’s grin widened. “Come on, angel. I ordered tea to be served in your room.”

The angel wriggled happily. “Oh, well… I guess we should better hurry then. It would be rude to have the staff wait at the door.”

“Very rude,” confirmed Crowley righteously.

The taxi pulled off in a concerto of protests, and Aziraphale folded his hands on his lap, seemingly lost in thought. Crowley didn’t buy it for one second and looked out the window, hoping for a miracle.

“Crowley, my dear?”

 _Well, so much for a miracle._ “Yup?”

“Can you explain to me why my plane had to wait for thirty minutes beforelanding? We took so many turns in the sky I was starting to wonder if we would have enough fuel.Apparently it was due to a heavy cloud of smoke. Coming from ten different fires all over the city. None of them deadly, according to the staff, which was _so_ reassuring to hear.”

 _Shit_. “I am sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, angel,” mumbled Crowley. It was a better answer than _I needed twelve rats to help me steal your books and everyone volunteered so I had to bring all three hundred of them because choosing would have been too cruel._

“Were I to ask you if you had anything to do with that dreadful matter, what would your answer be, I wonder?” mused the angel, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve.

“Aziraphale, you remember how much you hate to lie, right?”

“Quite vividly, my dear.”

“Well I’m a demon, I have _no_ trouble with that,” declared Crowley with a grin, and it still was a better answer than _They kind of got carried away, and I couldn't have imagined how inventive they got or how they learnt to start a fire, but I've never been prouder._

Aziraphale bit back a smile. And looked out as a cohort of fire-trucks cut their path, sirens howling. “Hmm… so I assume you have nothing to do with _any_ of this?”

Crowley took his glasses off to look at his friend with a face so full of innocence anyone else would ask forgiveness for even asking the question. “Of course not, angel! I’m innocent as a lamb, honest!”

Aziraphale smiled sweetly, and nodded. “Of course you are, dear boy.”

Crowley relaxed a little, putting his glasses back.

“Did you leave the books at the hotel, Crowley?” asked Aziraphale with a frown.

The demon blinked, surprised by the sudden change of subject. “Uh, yeah… why?”

“Oh, my dear fellow, why? It is awfully unsafe! Why, three of my oldest nemesis… I mean colleagues, have been robbed of _priceless_ volumes in the last few hours, and precisely in this town!”

“ _No way!_ ” exclaimed Crowley, genuinely flabbergasted (since when did the angel know how to locate the internet on his cellphone by himself?).

“I assure you! We have to hurry, and pray for them to still be there and intact.” Aziraphale nodded firmly to himself.

The demon frowned. “Intact? Why wouldn’t they be intact? They’re in tip top condition, I checked.”

“I am sure you did. So no dog-eared pages, bent spines, old tea stains or tiny bite marks?”

Crowley coughed for a few seconds, and his friend helped him regain his composure with a few gentle pats in his back. “I am certain there will be _none_ of this, angel.”

Aziraphale leaned back in his seat with a happy sigh. “My dear, you truly are _wonderf_ -”

“Shut uuuuuup!” groaned the demon. “Finish that sentence and I swear to Satan I’ll never help you again!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'll add a conclusion. It needs one. Plus, it's already half written^^


End file.
